


Love, Larks, and Lotion

by Gnomad



Category: A Bit of Fry and Laurie
Genre: ABOFAL, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnomad/pseuds/Gnomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Murchison comes home after being fired from his job at the Secret Service, and is surprised to find an unexpected visitor waiting in his sitting room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Larks, and Lotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [who_is_small](https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_is_small/gifts).



> Thank you to two lovely peeps (who shall remain anonymous for now) for the speedy and supportive beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Tony Murchison stood outside the door to his flat after the end of a long and, well, frankly, he thought it wouldn't be going too far to call it a down right _depressing_, day at the office. He cradled a sagging cardboard box in his arms. In it contained all the personal effects that once sat on his office desk—a small potted plant; a little clock Valerie gave him as a Christmas present last year at the office holiday party; a picture of his beloved tabby cat, Muffins; and a coffee mug exclaiming the phrase, “Number 1 Spy!” that Lewis from the Balkan Desk gave him as a little joke (Lewis always was quite the prankster). They were all that was left of his job at the Secret Service and he found himself feeling quite protective of them.

 

Tony's house keys were in one of his trouser pockets, he was sure, and it seemed the most prudent thing to do would be to fish them out and open the door. He suspected they were likely located in the right pocket, though it was quite possible they were in the left, or perhaps in some other location. He balanced the heavy cardboard box between on his knee and against the door while his free hand snaked down into his right trouser pocket. Success and a job well done, he thought. Tony pulled them out and eased them into the lock, remembering to regrasp his box before swinging the door wide open.

 

He stepped in and quickly moved to the little dining table to set the box down. He was so focused on the task of safely depositing his burden, he failed to realize that his flat was already occupied until a lilting voice spoke up behind him.

 

'Hello, Tony.'

 

Tony jumped and squawked, the cardboard box crashing onto the table as he spun around to look at the intruder. Only, it wasn't a Russian spy come to exact his revenge on the former British Intelligence agent responsible for decrypting important communiques and using them to outwit the East in a dangerous game of cat and mouse as he'd first thought.

 

'Control!' he exclaimed, flabbergasted at the sight of his erstwhile boss sitting in Tony's favourite wingback chair. 'You gave me quite the fright!'

 

'Oh, dear. I'm so very sorry. That wasn't my intent at all.' Control leaned forward onto his knees and looked at Tony with mild concern. Tony thought there might be something different about the way Control looked compared to his usual office garb, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He moved into the sitting room to stand next to Control.

 

'Well, you jolly well did. I have to say, Control, one doesn't exactly expect to find one's former supervisor in one's flat just a few hours after said supervisor has fired...one. Boo. I think a bit of a startle is to be expected.'

 

'Too true.' Control nodded sympathetically. 'A bit of startle is expected, or at the very least it is understandable. Though it wasn't my intent to be so _cloak and dagger _about the whole business.' He waved his hand lightly through the air and paused while Tony looked at him with interest.

 

'Say, Control, forgive my forthrightness, but with my keen sense of observation I've noticed that you look slightly different from the way you usually do at the office.'

 

'Ah!' Control beamed at Tony. 'Of course you would. You always were quite the Sherlock Holmes of the British Intelligence. I am indeed looking slightly different from the way I usually do at the office.'

 

'Well, then!' Tony exclaimed, pleased to have his suspicions confirmed. 'Is it your eyes? They look like they are a different colour than they were earlier this morning.'

 

Control shook his head ruefully, and pinched his lips together like he was trying to refrain from bursting out with his secret. Tony found it quite vexing, in a good humouredly sort of way, of course.

 

'Not quite. Though that's a very close. No, it's my overcoat. I'm wearing an overcoat over my usual suit.' Ah! Tony could see that now and he ruefully admitted he'd never even noticed the giant beige overcoat that covered most of Control's body.

 

'That's quite the change, Control! I always knew you were a man of joie de vivre, if you'll pardon my French.'

 

Control waved him off, but looked pleased nonetheless. They stared at each other for a moment in silence and Tony rocked back and forth on his heels. Control squeezed his hands together and placed them in his lap.

 

'Control?'

 

'Yes, Tony?'

 

'It's certainly a nice gesture for you to pop 'round so soon after you had the unfortunate task of firing me from my job. But if you don't mind my asking, how did you get into my flat?' Tony finally asked. Control was quite the international man of mystery. Tony had never been so pleased that Control was firmly working for their side.

 

'Ah. Well, I knocked but you didn't answer and the door was unlocked. Quite rude of me to just let myself in, but I was concerned that loitering outside in the hall would provoke _rumours_. You know how they can spread in the most unlikely of places. Hallways are particularly susceptible.' 

 

'Golly, Control. You do think of everything, don't you? Well, in that case I must apologize for keeping you waiting.' Tony said, suddenly ashamed to have taken those extra two minutes to sit on that park bench and have a bit of a cry before returning home.

 

Control, however, waved him off. 'That's perfectly okay. I entertained myself by petting your delightful cat, though he seems to have run off. What was his name?'

 

'Muffins,' Tony supplied.

 

'Delightful creature. Mrs Control, I'm afraid, never allowed me a cat.' Control looked wistful and Tony felt himself thinking quite uncharitable thoughts toward Mrs Control.

 

'A right shame that, if I do say so myself, which I do,' Tony replied and Control nodded. 'Muffins here has always been a stalwart companion. At least when he's not out hunting...or sleeping...or eating...or cleaning himself...or lying in the sun...or ignoring me as revenge for leaving him to go to work. Yes, quite the stalwart companion otherwise.'

 

'I shall have to investigate getting a kitten,' Control remarked and Tony was confused.

 

'I thought you just said...'

 

'Ah, yes. Can't get anything by you, can I?' Control looked at him slyly and Tony felt himself blush from the praise. 'Mrs Control and I are divorcing. It seems she has found a great affection for the milkman. I originally suspected him as being a Soviet spy sent to track my movements and report back to the Kremlin, but as it turns out he's just a hardworking citizen of the Crown who happens to be fucking my wife.'

 

'An unfortunate mix up.'

 

'Indeed.' It seemed like Control wanted to say more so Tony waited. He found rocking on his heels and looking around the room facilitated the waiting period.

 

When no more information seemed to be forthcoming, Tony asked, 'Control?'

 

'Hmm?'

 

'Did you stop by to tell me that you and Mrs Control are divorcing?' Control's mouth formed the shape of an 'oh' but no sound came out and he suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

 

'Not exactly.' Control took a breath. 'Tony, do you recall article number XI, subsection 8, paragraph 12 of the Secret Service code of conduct?'

 

'Yes, I believe I do,' Tony said, confident in his knowledge of British Intelligence rules and regulations. 'Isn't it that the one that states that office supplies used on official, unofficial, or covert business must be purchased solely from British manufacturers with primary operations located on British soil, no matter that they cost five times as much as office supplies purchased overseas and are a third of the quality?'

 

'Close, but I believe what you're thinking of is article V, subsection 2, paragraph 9. No, article XI, subsection 8, paragraph 12 is the one that states that no employee of the British Secret Service may engage in a personal relationship including dating, shared living accommodations, and engaging in intimate or _sex-ual_ relations with another employee of the Secret Service,' Control recited, pausing a little bit at 'sexual' as he did. Tony mulled over the rule. 

 

'Yes, I believe I remember that one. It was brought up a fair number of times after that little "to do"'—he made air quotes with his fingers—'at the office Christmas party last year when Frank from the West German desk was caught photocopying his bottom with Marsha from the Cuban desk. I believe a few too many cups of eggnog were involved as well.'

 

Control nodded gravely as they both remembered the incident. It hadn't been pretty. Extra toner cartridges had to be ordered as a result, and their exorbitant cost pushed the supplies budget over cost until 1990. Tongues wagged for weeks.

 

'It is quite a nice rule,' Tony commented, not really seeing where Control was going with this line of questioning. Control seemed to be doing that a lot today, first with the firing, now this. And one mustn't forget the overcoat as well.

 

'Mmm,' Control hummed in agreement, 'It is indeed a splendid rule. Fraternization among agents is quite bad for spying.' He stared directly at Tony now, and Tony wasn't afraid to admit that he found this a little unnerving.

 

'But Tony?'

'Yes?'

 

'You don't work for the Secret Service anymore.' Control looked at him expectantly.

 

'No...I don't. I recall that it was just this morning that you gave me the bad news.' Tony scratched his head and wondered if Control's memory was perhaps going a bit screwy.

 

Control pursed his lips together and steepled his fingers. 'Do you understand what I'm saying?' he asked, again with that intent look in his eye.

 

'Yes, of course. You're saying I don't work for the Secret Service anymore, which is a most accurate statement. Jolly correct of you.'

 

Control shook his head and got up out of the wingback. Tony noticed that suddenly they were standing rather close to one another now.

 

'No, I don't think you understand,' Control said finally. But before Tony could ask him to explain, Control took hold of him by both arms and did the most baffling thing of all.

 

He kissed Tony.

 

And it was, if Tony did say so himself, quite a nice kiss too.

 

'Oh.' Tony replied as though Control had just given him a long winded explanation of the situation, which considering how hard he was breathing, long winded was perhaps an apt term.

 

'So, to sum up, I suppose, I came by to inquire if, now that you are no longer a spy, you'd be amenable to fraternizing with me,' Control explained, looking himself a touch out of breath as well. His cheeks had taken on that rosy hue so common to bruised tomatoes and baboons' buttocks.

 

Tony thought about it for a minute. 'I don't supposed it would be called fraternizing now that I am no longer your employee. But yes, thank you, I would enjoy that very much.'

 

Control's chest puffed up a bit and he beamed at Tony. He had a moment to bask in glory of being the cause of that happiness before his lips were once again captured. Tony's hands tangled in Control's overcoat as their lips fought for dominance (a battle Control was currently winning 3-0 in the bottom half). Tony gasped when Control nipped and nibbled at his bottom lip and suddenly a hot, silken tongue slid against his own. He felt Control's hands moving over his body, squeezing here, pinching there, and it occurred to him to do the same but he felt certain that if he moved his hands from where they were bundled against Control's chest he would shatter like a dropped coffee mug. And Control liked to drink his coffee, not mop it up off the floor.

 

'Control?' Tony asked when they broke apart again a few minutes later, panting and sharing each other's breath. Tony's trousers had become quite tight in the time they'd been kissing, and judging by the rather sizeable bulge he could feel against Control's trouser placket, he would guess that Control was in a similar situation.

 

'Hm?' Control responded, looking very much like he wanted to cease all verbal communications in favour of more physical dialogue.

 

'I would like very much if you would bend me over the sofa and bugger me firmly but gently until we both climax.' Tony looked into Control's lust-filled eyes and knew his request would be fulfilled faster than a message could be decrypted by the KGB.

 

'I would like that too,' Control confirmed before he pushed Tony back against his living room sofa and began divesting Tony of his clothes. Being of the helpful sort, Tony began undressing Control as well but they quickly got caught in a tangle of hands and fabrics. Control took Tony's hands in his own, then, and kissed them gently before continuing the work on his button-down shirt. Control stopped for a minute to shrug his overcoat to the floor, and Tony had to admit, if only to himself, that he was sorry to see that dashing overcoat go. Perhaps if Control was amenable to buggering him again in the future he would get him to do it only in that overcoat. He'd remember to inquire about that later.

 

While Control worked on his own waistcoat and button-down, Tony threw his vest over his head and began to unbutton his trousers. He slipped out of them and kicked them rudely to the side and watched as Control slipped his own trousers off. Dark hair was scattered pleasingly across Control's pale chest and flat stomach. It trailed down to his plain, white smalls, which strained with Control's obvious arousal.

 

Tony gazed at the feast before him (better than anything the canteen at work had ever served) and felt a bit foolish all of a sudden. How did he manage to spend every day with such a wonderful man and never realize how perfect they'd be together? That was the kind of lack of observation that was frowned upon in a spying agency such as the one he had just left. What other important facts had he missed over the years? Had the mail room really carried C5 envelopes all this time and he'd just never noticed? Valerie had a devil of a time trying to get those ordered on occasions when he'd needed them.

 

Control shifted nervously, licking his lips, and Tony realized he'd been staring for an inordinate amount of time. In apology, he moved forward and ducked his head, taking one of those perfect nipples into his mouth as he went. The gasps Tony elicited as he began to suck and lick at the brown nub gratified him to no end. His hands, no longer frozen in place, roamed freely across Control's stomach, sides, and back, dipping ever closer to the skin hidden in those underpants.

 

Long, delicate fingers carded through his hair as he worked, and when he glanced up briefly to give equal attention to Control's left nipple (one should never show favouritism, after all), Tony had to pause and watch, captivated by Control's thrown back head and closed eyes. Tony was allowed to administer his attention to the neglected nipple for a few minutes after, but soon found himself pulled up and into another urgent kiss.

 

Control pushed Tony's pants down to his ankles as they kissed, and it was all he could do not to cry out when a firm hand wrapped itself around his swollen cock. Control's firm grip held him in place, neither moving forward or back, until Tony was on the urge of begging or doing something drastic, he wasn't sure which.

 

'Tony?' Control asked, tucking his face into Tony's neck, hot breath skittering down his back and tickling the delicate hairs at the base of his scalp.

 

'Ye-yes?' he gasped out in return, attempting to cant his hips into Control's hand and make him _move_, gosh darn it.

 

'I'm afraid I've come rather ill prepared.'

 

'Already?' Tony asked, jerking back with alarm. 'I didn't even realize!'

 

'No, no, no, you misunderstand.' Control shook his head and huffed out a laugh. 'I meant I've forgotten to bring lubrication. You wouldn't happen to have any handy?'

 

Tony practically sagged in relief. 'Of course. If you'd be so kind as to unhand my bits for a brief moment, I'd be happy to go and fetch it.'

 

Control stepped back and Tony nearly keened at the loss of that warm hand, but he recovered well enough to fetch the discreetly labelled hand lotion out of the bedroom with impressive haste.

 

When he returned, he saw that Control had shed his underpants and stood proudly in the centre of the sitting room, idly stroking his rather impressive erection. Tony's mouth dropped and a little puffed 'oh' escaped from his lips.

 

'Now then, I believe an agreement was reached with regards to some buggering over the sofa?' Tony swallowed and moved like a magnet back to Control and that delicious cock. Control plucked the lube out of Tony's unresisting hand, and Tony couldn't resist another chance to capture Control's lips and run his tongue around that sweet, warm mouth. He didn't have much opportunity, however, because he was quickly turned 'round and pressed into a kneeling position against the sofa. He braced his hands against the furniture and leant forward as Control's warm body pressed against his back.

 

'I would like to prepare you for penetration now,' Control whispered, his lips trailing down the vertebrae of Tony's back as he spoke.

 

'Yes, please,' Tony gasped, pushing his arse back against Control's cock but not quite getting the friction he so wanted. He heard the cap on the lubrication twist off, and a moment later two firm fingers circled his entrance with surprising gentleness. They coaxed him open and stroked his insides with a delicious, unrelenting pressure. Control crooked his fingers, and Tony nearly shouted when they brushed against his sensitive prostate.

 

'Control, please!' He begged, already so close. 'If—if you would be so kind...as to bugger me properly—' Tony turned his head in an attempt to see Control, to convey to him the urgency of his request, but the fingers continued to brush against that delightful spot, leaving him breathless and writhing.

 

His wish was answered moments later, however, when the fingers left him and the tip of Control's cock pressed into him. Tony's head dropped into his arms, and he couldn't stifle a groan as he stretched to accommodate the length.

 

'All right?' Control asked, voice strained and breathless. He'd draped himself across Tony's back and Tony gloried in the feeling of being surrounded by Control. They paused like that for a moment until Tony managed a reply:

 

'In—indeed.'

 

Control moved slowly, then, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of Tony's arse. Tony's eyes drooped closed at the remarkable pleasure of taking Control inside of him. He wished he could see Control's face as Control thrust into Tony's body, but he contented himself with imagining it, picturing the rapture he would see if he could turn around right now.

 

Control reached around to grab Tony's hand and wrap it around his cock, and their combined grip pushed Tony closer to the edge. They increased their rhythm faster and faster, and Tony forgot to breathe when the cock inside him changed angles and brushed against his prostate. Another thrust, and two, and Tony arched back and came with a groan.

 

The cock inside of him continued to move in and out, becoming more erratic. Tony recovered himself enough to rock his hips in counterpoint to the thrusts, until Control slammed into him once more and shouted, 'Tony!' as he came.

 

They lay there for a moment in silence, and for once it was not an awkward pause, no one waiting for words to fill the gap or trying to think of the appropriate thing to say. Tony idly wondered if they could stay like this forever, or, well, at least the rest of the the hour, but Control's softening cock slipped from his arse with an uncomfortable squelch and his knees quickly began to protest their kneeling position, so it was probably for the best when Control moved to the side and collapsed gracelessly onto the sofa.

 

Tony turned and did the same, careful to give Control some of the post-coital personal space he knew partners enjoyed. Control, however, gazed at him with eyes that could only be described as fond, and pulled Tony to him in a manner that distinctly suggested that he required very little personal space from here on out. Control seemed to doze happily for a few minutes, but Tony's brow furrowed as he started to imagine where they went from here. He had to admit that he'd be hard-pressed to come up with a definitive answer on the subject if asked at that moment.

 

His post-coital wool gathering was quickly becoming post-coital wool stockpiling, when he was struck by a solution that had yet to fail him in the past.

 

'Control?' he asked pulling back slightly to get a better view his dozing new lover.

 

'Yes, Tony?' Control eyes popped open and he had a very self-satisfied sort of smile on his face.

 

'I'd say this situation calls for a nice cup of coffee, wouldn't you?' Tony suggested. The effect, as he hypothesized, was immediate. Control shifted up and grinned.

 

'What an excellent suggestion!' he crowed. 'I'd be most grateful for a cup.'

 

Tony got up and headed for the kitchen. He turned halfway there and smirked, 'I know just how you like it, of course: strong and milky. Just like your men!'

 

'B'oh!' Control exclaimed, his eyes crinkling with glee, and from that point on Tony knew everything would be all right.

 

 

 

-Fin-


End file.
